


A Bird in the Hand

by The_Winter_Straw



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 01:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18539125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Winter_Straw/pseuds/The_Winter_Straw
Summary: ...is surely not worth its asking price. Wasn't a missing groom enough of a trial on your wedding day?





	A Bird in the Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic trade response, this time from 2016. By the time this year rolled around, I'd already done everything I thought possible for the prompt "Please, I don't want to lose you, too." I started out with the intention of writing a fairy tale, and started the whole thing off with a reference to the time in the comics where Thor figures out which pigeon is Loki. In the end, I cut all the unnecessary stuff and wound up with this!
> 
> As always, please let me know if there is something I can do to improve my tags and the like.

Once upon a time, in a tiny realm known as Midgard, there lived a girl. This girl, of course, was you, and you lived as many young women at the time did during that Age of Miracles. None of these miracles ever happened to you. There were no fish oil transformations on your horizon, nor were there any divine calls to adventure. Just like all New Yorkers, you grew use to your daily commute being interrupted by superheroes, to calling insurance companies to argue over their decision to not pay for alien invasion damage to your apartment, and even to carrying an umbrella around with you even on the driest of days in case certain Asgardians decided to visit. Life went on. You had stopped looking for a real miracle years ago. 

As well you should have, because there was nothing miraculous about your wedding day. Outside, a seemingly endless of mass dark gray clouds let loose bucket after bucket of rain. Thunder rolled across the sky; lightning flashed–and that, really, was all you could see through the windowpane you had stationed yourself in front of to sulk. If you hadn't known any better, you’d have blamed the city’s resident Thunder God for the disastrous timing of this storm front. As it was, all you _could_ blame was your string of bad luck. 

Speaking of bad luck, the door to your parlor snapped open and in stepped the dripping figure of your best friend. Aliyah paused only long enough to shove some wet strands of hair back underneath her pink hijab before plopping soggily onto an overstuffed loveseat. “Well, the gazebo is flooded,” she announced. “The food is soaked through, and the caterer won’t bring more to replace it. Your flower arrangements are in pieces, and the band already ran off. I don’t think there’s anything left of your wedding ceremony.” 

You did not bother to leave the window, though you did turn just far enough to throw your her a sour look. “Do you have any _good_ news to impart?” you asked. Aliyah grinned. 

“Your maid of honor hasn’t walked out yet. At least there will be _one_ person here to witness this fiasco.” 

“Gonna need a groom for anything to be witnessed.” 

Most close friends would offer sympathy when their friend’s fiancé of a year and a half decided to just _not show up_ for the actual wedding. Most _acquaintances_ would feel bad enough when the carefully planned event got rained out. Not your Aliyah. She simply let out a sharp breath, and leaned her head back against the couch cushion. 

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said. You glared at her, which of course she didn’t see, having shut her eyes to listen to the water tumble from the roof to the street outside. 

“Thank you. So much.” 

“What?” she asked, forcing her eyes open again. “I _told_ you Jared wasn’t good enough for you. Besides, you get to keep all the gifts even if he doesn’t stop by. I saw, like, _nine_ blenders in that pile. You’re better off this way, if you ask me.” 

“You’re just saying that because you want a free blender,” you said. Aliyah smiled a second time. 

“I wouldn’t say _no_. But, really, you should count your lucky stars. Free stuff, _and_ free of your jackass boyfriend. What better start to a weekend?” 

“I’d rather be _married_ to my jackass boyfriend.” 

Aliyah’s disdain for Jared was nothing new or surprising. He’d fallen from grace in her eyes when he’d got jealous over your fondness for an injured pigeon you’d rescued only a few months after you started dating Jared. Even releasing the bird hadn’t entirely put an end to his complaints about how you spent your free time. On the other hand, you knew one thing that neither Aliyah nor Jared did: Jared’s jealousy wasn’t entirely misplaced. But that was years ago. This was now. And that bird had always been bad news. 

“Are you going to cry about it?” Aliyah asked, peering over at your perch by the parlor’s bay window. “Because if not, I’d hate to have dragged Habib all the way to America for nothing.” 

At the mention of her long-distance boyfriend, you motioned for Aliyah to go on. You preferred to do your moping alone, and Aliyah knew it. She gave you a quick hug before she left without another word. Probably you _did_ owe your maid of honor at a least a blender for all the trouble she’d been through on your behalf. 

Sighing, you lifted one hand, dug your fingers into your hair, and tore out what was holding it in its elaborate design. Who cared what you looked like now? Even if stupid Jared _had_ shown up, the storm would have ruined your appearance before you made it down the aisle. Now Aliyah had free rein to spend the rest of her afternoon cuddling with Habib and you had no one else to bother looking pretty for. 

Outside your empty room, you could hear the indistinct muttering of your remaining guests. Family, mostly, who had already given up trying to convince you to let them in. What the rest of them were waiting for before they left, you couldn’t guess. Perhaps for you to come out and make an official announcement: _The wedding has been called off. Party’s over. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. And thanks for all the blenders._

The shame of your situation suddenly threatened to crash down upon you. It would have, if you had remained sitting where you were. Instead, you stood, white dress rustling as you stalked across the room. A quiet shriek of rage was stifled only by your gloved hand pressed to your colored lips. Of all the pathetic, idiotic, _insane_ things you had done in your life! Now you didn’t even have the courage to face your friends and family with the truth. 

_“Tap. Tap. Tap.”_

Hail began to hit the glass behind you, soft and hesitant. Since you had no plans to leave the building any time soon, you ignored this weather development. 

Jared hadn’t even _called_ to say he’d changed his mind. You should have known when he hadn’t come home after his stag party the night before. He was probably laughing it up over your stupidity with some blonde bikini babe by the beach that you were supposed to go to for _your_ honeymoon. The thought caused you to kick out angrily at the coffee table, and you heard a quiet rip issue from your skirt in response when it caught on a corner. You swore. 

_”Tap. Tap. Tap.”_

Really, the sound wasn’t regular enough to be hail. It wasn’t very hesitant anymore either. Still, you ignored the noise as you yanked off your veil, your gloves, and your garter. You were mentally preparing to rip them all to shreds with your fingernails when you heard it again: _“Tap. Tap. Tap.”_

That time, you did not suppress your shriek. With it, you marched over to the window and shoved it open. The wind whistled through the empty space, sending anything in the room not tied down into the air, and splattering your face with water. If ever there was a time to reasonably expect an Asgardian thunder god to step inside, it was then. No one was there, though, save for a single bedraggled pigeon. 

“Oh, hello,” you said when it hopped onto the sill, and automatically you held out your cupped hands toward it. The poor thing shivered once, then stepped onto your warm palms. Only when it looked up into your face did you see that it had bright green, very un-pigeon-ish eyes. 

Before you could stuff the bird back outside, it lifted itself into the air to half-flutter, half-fly over to the loveseat Aliyah had been sitting on. A flash of light that had nothing to do with the lightning outside filled the room. When you had blinked and cleared your vision enough that you could see again, the pigeon was gone, and in its place reclined a tall, dark-haired, beautiful man, dressed to the nines in Asgardian fashion. 

“Hello, darling,” said Loki Laufeyson. “Don’t you look _ravishing_?” 

You were too shocked to contradict him. No mention of your torn dress, mussed hair, or smeared makeup escaped your lips. Instead, you said the only thing you _could_ in that sort of situation: “What are _you_ doing here?” 

“Why, I’m here to offer you my congratulations, of course,” he answered, examining one perfectly manicured nail. “Or should it be my condolences?” 

“Really?” Your tone dripped with enough sarcasm that it could be heard over the protesting window as you forced it shut. “You disappear for two years, never write, never visit, and then you just _happen_ to pop by to celebrate my wedding to another man?” 

“What kind of secret lover would I be if I did not?” 

“We are _not_ secret lovers.” 

“Well, no, we haven’t been for quite some time. I see no reason why that should stop us from picking up right where we left off, however.” 

“We were _never_ secret lovers.” 

“ _Really_?” he said, mocking the tone of your earlier question. “That’s not what it seemed like to _me_. Of course, I had the brain of a pigeon most of the time, but at night when your beau had to work and leave you so very alone–” 

“You can’t just show up out of the blue and expect me to want you again,” you interrupted. “And on my _wedding day_ to boot.” 

To his credit, Loki looked genuinely confused by your behavior–like he’d expected you to jump straight into his arms, marriage or no. Obviously, they did things differently in Asgard. You were not Asgardian. “Fine,” he said. “If that’s the way you want it. I was only trying to thank you for helping me, you know.” 

“All I did was take in a pigeon that got injured when Thor threw a bunch of peanuts at a flock. It didn’t really deserve that sort of thanking.” 

“Ah, but you enjoyed it anyway.” That wasn’t the point. He knew it wasn’t the point just as well as you did, because once he made it, he got fluidly up to his feet to and walked over to stand in front of you. “If you are that disinclined to see me, I suppose I had better get going. If you ever grow tired of being lonely again–oh, that’s right. You _don’t_ know how to contact me.” 

You opened your mouth to remind Loki that you didn’t _want_ to contact him, but then something about Loki’s words rang strange. “Alone?” you echoed. 

“Yes, alone. Or do you expect your prince charming to come riding up on a horse of white any second now? Better late than never?” 

Without thinking, without warning, you slapped him straight across the face. 

“Ow!” he snapped, pressing one of his hands to the mark on his face. “What was _that_ for?” 

“What did you do?” you demanded, lifting your hand for another blow. “What did you do to Jared?” 

“Me? Do something to Jared? What should _I_ have to do with that ponderous ass?” 

“Did you kill him, Loki?” you asked, voice quavering. Loki could do it. Easily. He was a god, and Jared just…well, just a ponderous ass. Loki let out a single bark of laughter. 

“Oh, _please_. I just got out of Asgardian prison. As _if_ I’d risk going back over the murder of a petty moral such as he.” 

That brought you up short. Frowning, you deigned to look at him again. “Prison?” 

“Yes, prison. Did you think my absence was due to taking a pleasure cruise?” 

“I thought you’d escaped prison when I found you the first time.” 

“But _you_ sent me back to Asgard when I started causing trouble," he reminded you. "Odin does not forget his son’s crimes easily, nor is he inclined to forgive them. Luckily my brother is far easier to manipulate." 

He had not, you noticed, made any real move to leave. Loki still stood in front of you, looking down as the pink handprint faded from his cheek. 

“So…you _didn’t_ kill my fiancé?” you asked uncertainly. He shook his head. 

“If he isn’t here, it is because he is a dunce, not because _I_ tricked him in any way.” 

“Oh.” All the problems of your appearance seemed at once apparent and embarrassing. To think that _this_ man would see you in such a state, and only because he’d wanted to see you after his release from jail. “Why did you _really_ come, then? Since you knew he wasn’t here. To gloat?” 

“The thought _did_ occur to me,” Loki confessed. “I am not often in the position of being the more desirable choice. But,” here his voice turned oddly sincere, “I actually came to ask you to come with me.” 

Your mouth fell open. Some of Loki’s usual acerbic amusement returned as he watched you flounder; you could see the faint outlines of his familiar smirk at the corners of his mouth. Finally, you managed a short, “go with you _where_?” 

He shrugged, and started to twist the curtain in between his long, pale fingers. “I don’t know, really.” 

“You want me to go somewhere with you without anywhere in mind?” 

“I thought we’d figure it out as we went along,” he said. “Travel the galaxies. I cannot return to Asgard and Midgard, of course, is out of the question so long as I do not rule it.” 

“You want me to follow you into outer _space_?” Only his silence could tip you off that Loki was actually nervous. He clearly had no idea how you would respond to his suggestion–which was by falling into a nearby chair to gape at him. “You want me to leave my family?” 

“They live far away and hardly talk to you.” 

“And my job?” 

“That you’ve never liked. We’re both aware.” 

“ _And_ my best friend?” 

“She spends most of her time visiting mosques in India with her boyfriend,” Loki said with a dismissive flick of his hand. “Besides, there’s no rule to say we can’t come back to visit her every so often. I have no objection. She seems a sensible enough woman.” 

“And you want me to leave them all,” you went on as though you couldn’t hear him, “for _you_ , a man I haven’t seen in years because he was in _prison_.” 

Once more, Loki said nothing. His green eyes peered into yours with unreadable depths, just as they had the unfortunate day you had returned home after to work to find your injured pigeon friend gone and a strange man eating all of the meat out of your fridge in its place. You could remember, too, the feel of that man’s skin against yours, the heat of his lips on your neck, the sound of his low voice in your ear–and Jared complaining, always complaining, about how much time you spent with that damn bird. 

You buried your face in your hands. “I can’t do it, Loki. I can’t.” 

You waited to hear him leave again, to hear the glass move and the rush of the storm and the flutter of wings. None came. All that did was one soft word: “Please.” 

“Huh?” 

When you looked up, Loki was right above you. His hands gripped the chair arms at your sides with enough force to make them whiter than ever–but his eyes were not on yours anymore. “Please,” he said, “I don’t want to lose you, too.” 

Another move without thinking or warning: you gently touched his other cheek. Loki’s eyes closed for a half second before he moved one hand to hold your wrist there. “I have already lost my father, my mother, my home. My own brother has thrust me unceremoniously from both realms I sought to rule. And then to hear that I would lose you, too, to an oaf like that _Jared_.” 

No one could say that Loki losing all of this wasn’t entirely his fault. _He_ had decided to lead an alien invasion into Earth, to try murdering several members of his mentioned family, and to seduce young Earth women under the guise of hurt animals. But part of Loki’s charm was that he never failed to make one doubt that he _could_ be better, maybe, if you only let him try. 

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely. A sincere apology didn’t mean your mind was changed, however, and this, also, Loki knew. 

“Do you want me to beg?” he asked. “I am no longer a stranger to begging.” 

With that, Loki slid to the wooden floor before you. Stranger or no, it was positive it wasn't a position relished being in, what with how stiff his hands were around yours when he made to hold them. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and began: 

“I know I am asking a lot. But I, too, have lost a family, a job, and my closest friends. I would not ask you to come with me if I did not intend on paying you pack ten times in kind. If you will allow me to take you with me, I know I can make you happier than you would be here. Together we will find some place to call our own, and you shall be my queen. So please,” he said, “please let me keep one last thing that I love. Don’t make me leave you behind, too.” 

It wasn’t the prettiest speech you had ever heard come out of his mouth, but it was probably the most honest. You gave him a tiny smile as you squeezed his hands in return. “A queen, huh?” 

Loki smirked. “Or a comfortable, quiet living. Depending on what we find, and how thorough Thor is in seeking me out. At least, we could be comfortable and quiet for a little while.” 

“Can’t imagine that’s going to last long with you around,” you observed. 

“With you around to look after me, though…” 

That got _you_ to laugh. “Oh, yes, I’m sure I’d do a wonderful job making sure you didn’t get into any trouble. I did such a good job before.” 

Some of the color returned to Loki’s features. He was starting to hope. Against your better judgement, so were you. A couple of things, however, remained to bother you: “What if you came here and Jared and I _were_ married?” you asked. 

“Then I would have had to resort to kidnapping.” 

“And how did you even know I was getting married today to begin with?” 

He smiled his Cheshire smile, and that was when you knew you were truly lost. “You _really_ ought to stop talking to the birds on your fire escape. You never know which one would be willing to pass information off in exchange for a couple of peanuts.” 

“Oh, _and_ you stalk me. What part of this deal _doesn’t_ sound good?” 

“None of it, I should hope.” Standing, Loki kept one hand firmly around one of yours. “We should go, you realize. Unless you want to say your goodbyes?” 

You thought of your parents blustering about how you dared to invite both of them to your wedding. You thought of the forlorn apartment you shared with a man that had never really loved you enough. You thought of Aliyah and her instance that Jared would never be good enough for you. You thought of the awkward explanation that would be expected as soon you set foot outside that door–and you grinned. “Not a chance.” 

“Then I believe,” he said, and abruptly pulled you into his arms in an obvious parody of carrying a bride before pushing the window open with his boot, “we have a few errands to go on before we get on our way.” 

“Like what?” 

“Unless you plan to live the rest of our lives with nothing but multiple blenders,” he began, but was not able to finish over your sudden laughter and the return of the torrent outside. You latched your hands behind his neck as he dove back into the rain. There were stars somewhere above those clouds, and you would be visiting them soon enough–them, and endless other realms. Maybe eloping with a man that could turn into a pigeon wasn’t the _best_ miracle there ever was on Midgard, but it pulled off the most important trick of them all: against all odds, you lived happily ever after. 


End file.
